


Blood on the Sand

by Zelest



Series: Fools Flock to Hopeless Causes [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/F, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Monk Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Roegadyn (Final Fantasy XIV), White Mage Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), WoL Needs A Hug, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 10:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24848017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelest/pseuds/Zelest
Summary: Sometimes, one can't but stop and wonder on the monumental idiocy displayed by everyone fighting in this war. And yet, as commanded by The Mothercrystal, what can one fool do, but play her part in this grand cosmic comedy.Rated T for now.
Series: Fools Flock to Hopeless Causes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820602
Kudos: 4





	Blood on the Sand

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I am certain that everyone who played FF XIV was, at one point or another, frustrated by how quiet and passive their Warrior of Light was - whether to give some unsolicited advice, punch someone in the face or to tell them to JUST KISS ALREADY, we all wished at some point to do more than just stare and observe. I will attempt to remedy that feeling here, by inserting a few scenes or commentaries and by exploring what might be happening in my WoL's head.  
> SPOILER WARNING: This Fic contains, at present, General Spoilers for Heavensward expansion! If you haven't played it yet - do it before reading this. I'll wait.

The dark silhouette of Little Ala Mhigo stood in contrast to the yellow-orange sky of the Southern Thanalan desert. The wind howled in cracks and crevices within the rock, carrying desert seeds and fine sand. A lone figure was slowly making their way across the sands and boulders, heading toward a one of the cliffs that surrounded the canyon. The figure – a Roegadyn woman, clad in travel robes of white and dark red cursed under her breath after slipping yet again on a patch of loose gravel and adjusted her grip on the staff which she supported herself with – and which betrayed her as magick user of some kind. After reaching the wall of the canyon and casting her gaze around for a moment, she headed toward a small cluster of boulders that offered shelter from the howling wind and the sand it was carrying. Stepping between the large rocks, she spotted a young Hyur, perhaps in his early twenties, with short, golden hair and dark skin.

„You're Wilred”? She asked, pulling off the hood of her robe, revealing gray-blue skin typical of a Sea Wolf along with long, red hair that contained streaks of white, tied up in a ponytail. The woman's left check was marked with an intricate red tattoo and, in a typical Roedagyn fashion, she had at least a foot of height advantage over the Hyur. The youth nodded.

„Thanks for coming, friend. 'Tis no ordinary outsider who can gain the trust of the old bear. That's why I wanted to meet you, to discuss something in private.”

The woman scoffed, measuring the young man with her eyes. „Could've done that back at home, lad. No sense in dragging me halfway across the blasted desert for it.” She sighed. „Still, I'm here. What'd you want to...'discuss'?”

„Tell me” the man began „why are you snooping about? Did the Empire send you? Or someone else?” He asked, his eyes flashing in hostility. The woman took a step back, slightly surprised by the outburst, momentarily silent. Focused on the youth's words she did not notice a pair of shadows creeping up behind her.

„Coeurl got your tongue?” The man pressed. „No matter. Whoever it is you work for, your meddling ends here. Get her.” He snapped his fingers. The woman felt a quick and violent tug as her crystal-capped staff was yanked out of her hand. Seeing the boy make no move to engage her, she turned around to see four more youths, their hair and clothing also signifying them as Ala Mihgans, formed in a semi-circle around her. The one nearest to her was holding her staff.

„Oh no. No, no, no.” She shook her head with exasperation rather than genuine alarm. „You don't want to do this. And you REALLY want to give me my staff back.”

„We watched you traipse around the desert like you own the place. We know your tricks. And we're not stupid.” She heard from behind her back. „The best conjurer in Eorzea won't so much lift a pebble without their staff.”

„True,” the woman conceded, undoing the two top buttons of her robe „I use the staff for my conjuring. Mainly to HEAL people. And if you don't give it back to me...” she said adopting a stance that any pugilist in the realm knew by heart „Then that means I will have to do what comes next with my bare hands.” She flashed a predatory smile to the nearest youngster, who suddenly seemed less sure of their position. And then she went to work.

The fight lasted less than a minute. By the end of it all four youngsters were laying on the ground, clutching bruised ribs, dislocated jaws and broken noses. The woman slowly walked over to her discarded staff and picked it off the ground where the boy dropped it. She then turned to Wilred.

„Who...who the blazes are you?” He asked, his confident, accusatory facade crumbled in the face of the firm trashing which was just afforded to his cohorts.

„The name's Cordella. And you, young man, shouldnae be accosting random travellers who just want to help you.” The woman struck the ground with the butt of her staff and wave of soothing wind emanated from her, washing over the youngsters on the ground. The bleedings stopped and the headaches lessened a bit. She then turned around and started heading back towards Little Ala Mhigo.

„This changes nothing!” She heard Wilred shouting „Threaten us, beat us bloody all you like...but nothing short of death can make us give up on our fight!”

„I know, lad.” She muttered to herself, once again making her towards the mountain that housed the population of an entire, conquered nation. „If fools were prone to giving up, none of us would be in that fight.”


End file.
